


Open That Vein

by Healy



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Dark, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Manipulative Relationship, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-09-01 12:38:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16765321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Healy/pseuds/Healy
Summary: Bill makes a dangerous request of Ford in the Mindscape.





	Open That Vein

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the [Chandler Groover game](https://ifdb.tads.org/viewgame?id=aynqilyjkha55aoa) of the same name.

Ford always treasured his meetings with Bill in the Mindscape. No matter what they talked about, it always seemed like Ford gained something of import: a new piece of information, a warning about a particular danger around Gravity Falls, or perhaps just a renewed spirit of vigor.

Tonight, however, was testing that principle.

"C'mon, Sixer!" Bill hovered over Ford's shoulder. "You wanna complete this portal, right?"

Ford swallowed. "Yes, but--"

"But nothing!" snapped Bill. He flew around Ford in a circle. "I need you to open that vein for me, IQ. I've had a lot of doubts about your commitment to the cause over the past few weeks, and I need you to prove to me that you're still in. Am I clear?"

Ford stared at the scalpel Bill had asked him to use for-- the procedure. "And you say it won't hurt? Or, or kill me?"

Bill slapped Ford on the back. "Positive! Look, are you saying you can't trust me?"

"I..." Ford began. He shook his head. "Of course not. I... I trust you completely, of course." He took a deep breath, and readied the scalpel for the incision. Carefully, carefully, he brought it closer and closer to the vein, until, with one clean flick, he cut open the vein, and—

* * *

...then he woke up.

Still dazed by his dream, Ford blinked at the blurry letters and shapes on his desk. Apparently his glasses had slipped off his face during his nap.

“Stanford!” Fiddleford cried, cradling a pot of coffee. “’Bout time you woke up! We got some more calculations to do on those tests we did the other day.”

With a loud yawn, Ford slipped his glasses back on. “Fiddleford, if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a hundred times, never enter my office when—”

“ _Hey!_ ” Fiddleford rushed to take a tetrahedron off the desk. “Careful! You were ‘bout to cut your arm on the edge of that thing.”

Ford blinked, again, then pushed himself up off the desk. “Yes, well, that _thing_ is very important to my research, so take a little more care when you touch them in the future, alright?”

Fiddleford could only stare in reply. “Sometimes, I think you like your junk more ‘en you do me,” he said, finally, handing the tetrahedron back to Stanford.

“Of course not, Fiddleford,” Ford replied, giving his friend a pat on the shoulder. “I will always treasure you as a confidante and a partner in the pursuit of science.” Still, Ford had to admit to himself, Fiddleford often got on his nerves. Take this moment, for instance. Ford could have sworn Bill was about to impart some very important advice to him in that dream. Now that Fiddleford had woken him up, he could hardly remember any of it. Something about a scalpel?

“Uh, Stanford?” Fiddleford gently brushed Ford’s hand off his shoulder. “You doin’ okay? You kinda zoned out there for a second.”

“Ah!” Ford coughed, loudly. “Sorry, I just… was thinking about the dream I had, is all. Come, now! You mentioned we had to do some calculations, yes?”

They both left Ford’s office, much the same as it had been before.


End file.
